


Nuovo Inferno

by Instrumentalist



Series: The New Divine Comedy [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angels, Christianity, Demons, Epic Poetry, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-19 23:58:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10650777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Instrumentalist/pseuds/Instrumentalist
Summary: Eons after Dante, another wandering soul is granted the honour of traveling through the realm of angels and demons, in the hopes that he may find his way again. Unlike Dante, however, the journey will not be as straightforward, and the divine guide is not so gentle as Virgil...





	1. The Hill

**1** There is a place on this planet that everyone visits at some time.

It is not a place you can walk to, nor can you fly past.

It is a place that I visited once, when I had just passed my prime.

**4** I, like everyone else, had not intended to go there, but my time came at last,

and as such, I was divinely compelled to enter a realm of pain and hate beyond compare,

and then leave it to see a land of penitence and size quite vast.

**7** Then, afterwards, I was given a chance to visit the world of the fair,

despite the fact that I felt unworthy of its beauty and sublimity.

I felt, and still feel, that I will not be able to easily return there.

**10** I think I am more likely to fall prey to my proclivity,

and either first find myself in that vast land again,

or perhaps I’ll be relegated forever to that realm barren of happiness and civility.

**13** So, while the memories and the emotions are still vivid, I shall begin:

I found myself walking through a dark and foreboding wood,

wherein the winter chill had stripped the leaves off of the trees within.

**16** I had dressed quite warmly, for it was very cold, and to freeze would not be good.

But despite my best efforts, nothing seemed to be able to shield me from the chill.

I shivered violently as I made my way through the trees, tightening my hood,

**19** desperate to keep myself from succumbing before I made it over one more hill.

As I reached the foot of the swell, though, I was rebuffed in my climb by a leopard.

This was unexpected. She growled at me, and stared at me with a look that could kill.

**22** “You cannot climb this hill! Try to pass me and I’ll turn you into strips of leather!”

She bared her teeth for emphasis, and I shrank back, clutching my hands to my chest.

“Why can’t I go up this hill? I need to get over it so I can leave this foul weather!”

**25** “You are not worthy to scale this rise, sinner,” she hissed. “You stay here with the rest.”

Before I could ask her what she meant, a tan cougar approached her.

He said in a threatening tone, “This man is not so far lost! Can you not see in his breast:

**28** “He has a repenting heart; he will not do any harm to leave this wood and cross over!”

They started to circle each other. “He shall remain!” the leopard growled.

“He is worthy enough to pass!” the cougar snapped. “No judgment will occur!”

**31** “That is not your decision to make!” she said, jumping, and as the cougar howled,

I ran, scampering back into the thick of the leafless trees until they were out of sight.

I paced back and forth nearby for multiple days, and still their fight raged as I prowled,

**34** waiting for an opening that it seemed would never come—until the fourth night.

I was still marching along my line, sleepless and anxious for an end,

when I heard a third voice, pure as song, call out to the combatants with all of its might:

**37** “Cease! Can you not see he’s gone?! You’re driving everyone here around the bend!”

The yowling stopped, and I tried to hear what the combatants said to the voice,

but they were too far away. I risked coming closer, tensing as I prepared to defend.

**40** “…do well to remember your place, Pes!” the cougar said. “You have that choice!”

“I also have the choice not to tolerate impurity in my realm!” Pes barked.

“He would befoul the grass with his shoes, disturb the air with his sinful voice!”

**43** “Pes, he’s clearly suffering!” the voice said, still unattached to a form. “He’s marked!

Did you not see how he covers his mouth with his scarf, his hands with gloves?

The cold affects him! He only passes to continue a journey on which he’s embarked!”

**46** “What you and Viracocha fail to see is that humans are not so pure as doves!”

Pes said with rage. I could see her, as well as Viracocha, but the voice was hidden.

“You don’t know his intention!” Viracocha said. “Perhaps past here is the one he loves!”

**49** “Feh!” Pes laughed. “Humans can’t love! They come, they see, they conquer, unbidden!”

“He only wants to leave the cold!” Viracocha said. “Can’t you allow him that?”

“I can’t!” she said. “If he tries to ascend this rise, he’ll find himself bedridden!”

**52** “Enough!” the voice said, and finally, its owner made themself visible beside the she-cat;

and I was rendered frozen by the beauty of the angel that had appeared:

A raven-haired woman, with a full face, kind eyes, and ivory skin; wearing a white hat,

**55** a white dress that grazed the tips of the blades of grass; her feet bare. She was feared,

I could tell, judging by the way that both of the felines had shrunk back

when they saw the expression of rage on her face more plainly as she neared.

**58** I will admit, though her anger did nothing to lessen her beauty, her verbal attack,

though directed towards them, struck a chord of terror deep within my own heart.

Divine though her appearance and voice had been, I had to force myself not to step back.

**61** “You must understand, his passage cannot be allowed!” Pes said. “I will tear him apart!”

“What is it that renders him so intolerable, Pes?” the angel asked sharply. “His face?

His clothing? His voice? Or have you simply tired of people, and just become tart?”

**64** “He is impure!” Pes said. “I will not have him taint my snow, nothing in this place!”

Viracocha laughed. “What she fails to notice is the purity buried beneath the murk.

He will burn off his wickedness soon enough, and he shall do so at his own pace.”

**67** “But until such a time,” Pes hissed, “he shall remain in this wood, and if he lurk,

I will find him and then chase him away ’til he collapses from the toll!”

The angel glared at Pes. “Well, I’m certain he’ll heed your word, given that perk.

**70** Won’t you, sir?” She paused a moment. “I know you’re here, I can sense your soul.

Just come on over here so we may speak together about this, all four of us.”

I felt like I had turned to ice—with the exception of my feet, which now felt hot as coal.

**73** Gingerly, I left the safety of the trees. Every footfall seemed to be as loud as a bus,

loud and harsh in the muffled silence that had fallen when she stopped speaking.

I walked as slowly as I dared. When I joined, the angel asked, “What caused the fuss?”

**76** I was speechless a moment, for her divine appearance was even more piquing

of interest and awe at this distance than from my previous viewing spot.

It was with great effort that I looked away and said, “Well, you see, er, I was seeking—

**79** to pass through here, over this hill, when, er, Pes told me I could not.

Then Viracocha said that I was regretful, repentant, and should be allowed to pass.

They fought, I scarpered, and that’s what it’s been for four nights. I feel made of rot.

**82** I’ve been pacing to and fro back there this whole time. My muscles are stiff as glass.”

The angel frowned thoughtfully, her gaze burning into my face, which I felt grow warm.

I could not resist a second glance at her. She smirked, and it was like I’d lost mass

**85** just looking at her face. Her eyes, I saw, were the same grey as rainclouds just taking form.

“So, Pes says you are not worthy to forge on, but Viracocha is of the belief

that you have a desire to redeem. It seems we are faced with an indecision of reform.

**88** You are currently in the borderlands between being damned and being granted relief.

So long as that is the case… I do not think you can traverse the slope yet.”

I frowned. “Yet? What do you mean by ‘yet’? Are you saying I can soon end my grief?”

**91** “Perchance,” she smiled. “I can arrange something to absolve you of your ethical debt.

As always, though, remind yourself that to cleanse the soul is no easy task.

It will be your responsibility to truly change yourself, no matter how hard it will get.”

**94** “I understand,” I said, bowing my head reverently. “I will assume no mask.

Any repentance you see will be genuine and from the deepest part of me.”

This time she did not smile. “We shall see. For now, follow me, get a water flask.

**97** ’Twil be a long journey, and you will steadily be paying for it a fee.

Hunger, thirst, exhaustion; these will not escape you while we trek.

But do not worry: good things come to those who do wish themselves to be free.”

**100** “I’m just grateful to leave this cold,” I admitted. “It’s been eating me peck by peck.

I’ll gladly take my earthly limitations with me on our journey.”

We started to walk, and I heard Pes chuckle, “Well, he is certainly an interesting wreck.”

**103** “I suggest you pay no mind to them now,” the angel said. “’Tis not our tourney.”

“What do you mean by ‘our tourney’?” I asked. “A battle of wits?”

“In a sense,” she said. “They’ll fight mind as well as body, to prevent need for a gurney.”

**106** For a long while, we were silent as we trudged on, my hands cold in my oven mitts,

but she, of course, walked through the slurry without so much as a twitch,

even though she was barefoot. Me, my feet felt like they’d soon shatter into bits.

**109** She produced a flask from the air as we approached a river that lay in a narrow ditch,

and dipped the glass into the flow of crystal water, filling it to the brim.

“This will sustain you for the first leg of our journey. Careful not to drop it in any pitch.

**112** I would not want you to die of dehydration before we’re out.” Her smile was now grim.

“Given the nature of this place, you’ll understand my hesitation?” I queried.

“Aye, I do not find it surprising,” she said. “Come now, before it becomes very dim.

**115** We have a long way to walk, and I will not have the dark allow us to be tarried.”

“Where are we going?” I asked her as we continued to perambulate further out.

“Our first destination is two leagues west and also thirty thousand leagues down, buried.”

**118** “Well, doesn’t that sound welcoming,” I remarked. “Quite a trip to think about.”

“Nonetheless, it is where we must go if you wish to continue. All will be well.”

“Does this place happen to have a name?” I asked. “A familiar moniker to tout?”

**121** She turned her head toward me, and her grin was rather unsettling. “Most call it Hell.”


	2. The Descent

**1** “So, traveller,” she asked me some time later, “do you happen to bear a name?”

“No,” I admitted sadly. “I was never given the honour by my mother.”

“I too,” she said. “I had to make my own; I was told it’d go down in fame.

**4** What of family? Do you happen to have aunts, uncles, sister or a brother?”

“None left,” I said. “All of them passed, some recently, others long since.

I’m the last of the bloodline, and I believe I will be the one who shall our blood smother.

**7** We have no value in our blood, but all the same, it’s like being the last prince:

You have the family legacy, and are doomed to be its climax, its end.”

We started down a rather rocky slope, and I prepared for them to start to mince

**10** my already frozen and sliced-up feet through my shoes, now beyond mend.

“Just down this hill we’ll reach the spot,” she told me, “and then we will need to dig.

The entrance to Hell is very deep beneath here. We’ll take a long time to descend,

**13** but your feet will be free of the cold before long. Mind, we’ll have some shovels to rig.”

“What name did you give yourself?” I asked. “I haven’t heard anyone address you so far.”

“It is not important,” she said evasively. “There is a better question for you, quite big:

**16** What lies ahead for you, beyond Pes’ hill? What is so important you’d let her mar

a face as kind and young as your own? What is worth weathering that to you?”

I looked down at my feet guiltily. “There’s someone I love. I know, how typical, har har.

**19** I’m stupidly simple, even for my age. Can’t decide where to go, what to do.”

She touched my shoulder, and I looked up at her. “Don’t say that,” she said.

“Youth have their own wisdom. Don’t discount your desires; elder beings have them too.”

**22** “…Alright,” I said. “You still haven’t answered my question. What’s your name? Fred?”

She laughed. “No. And I’m not going to tell you, so you needn’t ask me anymore.”

“Why? What is it about your name I can’t hear?” I asked as we entered a flower bed,

**25** and I realised we had exited the forest; it was now behind us. The snow from before

was replaced now with brilliant blue blooms that seemed to glow in the light.

“Well, if you did,” she said, “you would either laugh in my face or fall to the floor.

**28** Despite what you’d think, I’m not some idle wisp. I carry quite a bit of spiritual might.”

She held up her hand, and we stopped. “It’s close by. Somewhere there’s a place…”

She scanned the field, and after a moment pointed at a lull. “There. Quite a sight.

**31** That is the spot where we must dig. Thirty thousand leagues, at an average pace…

minus the truncation of the portal… three leagues to dig, which is a day or so.”

“Wait, a portal?!” I exclaimed. “We’re digging down to a hole in time and space?!”

**34** She laughed as we started again. “Yes. Don’t look so amazed! We dig, then down we go!”

“Oh! Excellent!” I said weakly. “I’ve always wanted to be stuffed into a wormhole!

Big dream of mine! Undergo the stress of general relativity and all that, y’know?”

**37** “It is much less unpleasant than it sounds, traveller,” she said. “’Tis not a great toll

on the body nor the mind. It’s like gliding through water, almost; calm and smooth.

You won’t feel a thing. All you must do is try to keep yourself straight, do not roll.”

**40** “Why? What will happen if I try to roll?” I asked. “Something bad? Tell me the truth.”

She heaved an exasperated sigh. “Then you run the risk of exiting too soon,

and as there is no open space along the sides, you’ll be crushed. Does that soothe

**43** your desire to find something bad about this?” And I said, “Oh yes, I’m over the moon.”

She halted suddenly. “Here we are. Now, somewhere there is a shovel and a spade…

Help me look.” I started searching through the flowers, feeling like a loon.

**46** How often does one find themselves in a place like this? How often did I wade

in an enormous field of flowers, searching for a spade that would allow me to reach

a tear in the fabric of space-time itself, into which I would have to then jump and fade?

**49** A few minutes later, I found a spade. “Got one!” I said, grimacing as I flicked off a leech.

“Excellent!” she said. “I’ve found the other! Come over to this terrace, this is our way.”

I made my way to the terrace, the only spot void of blue, and said, “This will be a peach.”

**52** “Don’t sound so enthusiastic,” she said. “We have a lot to do—at our pace, it’ll take a day

in order to reach the portal. I suggest you sober up and take this time to prepare.

Since Hell is most definitely not a kind place, you’d best prepare to keep darkness at bay.”

**55** We began to dig. The hours passed like molasses, but our pile of dirt was soon quite fair.

Before long, it was taller than both of us put together, and wider than the depression.

There was no way to keep time, but slowly the seconds passed like the clouds in the air.

**58** My arms, oddly, did not tire in the slightest, nor did my hands cramp from any tension.

The twelve-hundreth repetition felt as easy as the first slice into the grassy terra firma.

“Why am I not getting tired?” I wondered aloud. “It goes against my first impression.”

**61** “Well,” she said, resting her chin on the handle of her spade, “I would call it karma.

The fact that you’re doing this at all is a mark in your favour later in life.

Better to go on a cleansing journey through Hell than to waste time in, say, Burma.”

64 “That’s an oddly specific example,” I said. “Though I’m glad that at least the cold’s knife

has decided to let up over here. If there’s one thing I cannot bear, it is an icy gale.”

“Well, then you’ll not enjoy the centre of Hell,” she said. “It’s a realm absolutely rife

**67** with frigid ice and biting wind. Of course, the rest is unpleasantly hot, without fail…”

“Oh, did they have some sort of variety quota to fill, then?” I laughed. “That’s rich.”

She glared at me, but her smile was genuine. “Yes, _Hell_ worries about variety. They pale

**70** at the notion of being misconstrued as a _monotonous_ place. Heaven forbid it become _niche.”_

“So what have they done to ward off such an erroneous notion?” I asked. “I wonder

what the variety of the underworld itself must look like, to fulfill that lofty pitch.”

**73** “Ah, ah, ah,” she said, waving a finger. “Can’t have the effect torn asunder.

Hell’s composition is for me to know and for you to find out once we’ve finished here.”

“Oh, that’s hardly fair!” I complained. “You told me the centre is ice above and under,

**76** why can’t you say more than that?” She laughed. “Vagueries, vagueries, my dear!

What does one glean from “Oh, ‘twil be cold here”? Temperature is no great thing.”

“Well, I know many back home who’d disagree,” I said with a wry grin. “Many a year,

**79** spent moaning about the shifting weather. Believe me, it gets rather annoying!”

“Tell me if they’d side with you once you actually witness Hell’s creative methods,”

she challenged. “Even in my youth, I had no misapprehensions of the toying,

**82** abusive, truly _awful_ things that they do to their prey. That said, those people are fetid,

disgusting beings, and they deserve what is done to them, but even so: Hell will hurt.

You, as a passerby, must exercise caution. I am immune, but even that could be corrected,

**85** if the opportunity ever arose. So yes, ask your friends, after what you’ll have learnt,

how intolerable the patterns of earthly weather are in comparison to damnation.”

“Goodness gracious! Point taken!” I said. “Your descriptions certainly aren’t curt!”

**88** “I never had much patience for those who suffer from a lack of imagination.”

She punctuated her words with a particularly sharp cut. “Things can always be worse.

Even Hell could be worse. It’s only God’s good heart that gives them any salvation.”

**91** “It is God who decides what the sinners go through?” I asked. “He tailors the curse?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “This is God’s Creation, after all. It is only fitting.”

“I suppose so,” I said. “Though I always assumed the Morning Star chose the verse

**94** to which they play the song of a sinner’s eternal suffering. It seemed his… setting.”

“The Devil does not wield any illusion of control, nothing in his domain to be admired.

And you would do well not to refer to him as the Morning Star, it sets people spitting.

**97** There’s been an eons-old debate regarding the subject and I’ve long since grown tired

of hearing people arguing whether or not the title is his. It’s something of a dead horse.”

My head was starting to grow light with everything I was hearing. “Something of a mire,

**100** this whole thing, isn’t it? Just when I think I’ve heard everything about our charted course,

you throw another variable into the mix.” She smiled wryly, “Hell is a fickle realm.

An awful lot of thought has been poured into how we may punish the wicked.”

**103** “Wonderful,” I groaned. “I don’t know whether it’s good or bad that God is at the helm

of deciding what happens as well as who suffers. Strikes me as rather… harsh.”

“You’d be smart to mind your tongue,” she warned. “Punishment must be fairly dealt,  


**106** and of all beings, God is by far the most forgiving. If not for a need for justice, His heart  


would not allow Him to create a Hell at all. Every punishment precisely fits its crime,

no more. Do you not think that it hurts beyond comprehension to deny His hearth,  


**109** the realm of Paradise itself, to so many people?” I sighed, clearing away a speck of grime,  


and said, “I know God does not wish to deliver divine justice so painfully swiftly,  


but the fact that He is the judge, jury, and executioner as well, all but primed  


**112** to oversee the entire process Himself, it… it doesn’t sit well with me; I say so honestly.”

She scowled, and did not say anything for an uncomfortably long time. I bit my lip,  


and after gathering some courage, I managed to unblock my throat and muster a briskly,  


**115** “Of course, I shouldn’t talk. I’m no saint.” She looked at me, placing a hand on her hip,

and said, “No, you certainly aren’t. Otherwise you would not be my charge right now.

Hopefully before the end of our journey you’ll have learned not to let such words slip  


**118** so easily out of your mouth. Oh, we’re here, you can stop digging now.”

I dropped my spade and said, “I don’t see a portal.” She shook her head with a frown.  


“It’s here. Do you notice this dark patch?” She prodded a blacker patch of soil.

**121** “This is it. Take my hand.” Apprehensively, I gripped her hand. “It’s a quick trip down!”


End file.
